<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Manners by Randomfandoms389</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224502">Manners</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomfandoms389/pseuds/Randomfandoms389'>Randomfandoms389</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arthur is slightly repressed, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, spadesverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:01:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomfandoms389/pseuds/Randomfandoms389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“S-sire, I- ohhh…!” </p><p>“So formal,” Alfred murmurs, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s knee. “What have I told you about calling me that in private?”</p><p>(Arthur stands on ceremony too much sometimes. Is that why Alfred's torturing him now? Well, not really, no. He just likes making Arthur squirm.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>America/England (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Manners</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>There was, Alfred felt, something to be said about Arthur’s near-fanatical devotion to decorum and propriety and the Proper Way of Things.</p><p>It was an honest-to-god lifesaver whenever Alfred was about to make a political gaffe in front of some important ambassador, for one, because his queen was awesome like that. Sometimes, Alfred thinks that his presence is probably the sole thing standing in the way of their Jack acquiring yet more grey hairs. (Alfred’s not sure who had been more relieved when they’d gotten the news that a queen born into nobility had been found, him or Yao. Poor, poor Yao, who had been stuck in a palace with Alfred for half a year and had finally resorted to hurling etiquette textbooks at him in desperation because Alfred <em>tried</em>, he really did, but he had been a commoner before this <em> King of Spades </em>schtick and all that <em>your majesty this, your majesty that </em>nonsense okay? There had been a bit of culture shock.)</p><p>Arthur’s properness was just flat-out adorable sometimes, like whenever Alfred managed to make him blush by whispering into his ear decidedly more <em>interesting </em>things than some report a crusty old minister was droning on about in the throne room. (Arthur was very cute when he blushed; Alfred had it on good authority.) </p><p>And best of all, it made the times Arthur willingly broke from protocol even more special. Like when he sometimes leaned into Alfred’s shoulder companionably or allowed Alfred to distract him from a boring meeting by twinning their fingers together under the table. Or when he called Alfred his darling or his love instead of his king or all the other fancy titles that Alfred had never really warmed up to. </p><p>Arthur’s gotten a lot better about that last one but he still regresses a little sometimes. Usually when Alfred’s distracting him. Like now.</p><p>“S-sire, I- <em> ohhh…! </em>” </p><p>Alfred pushes his fingers a little deeper, crooks them in the way he knows drives his queen wild and feels Arthur spasm briefly, a heady moan spilling from those swollen lips. He’s gorgeous like this, splayed out naked in their bed, flushed and flustered and fluttering erratically around Alfred’s fingers.</p><p>“So formal,” Alfred murmurs in response, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s knee. “What have I told you about calling me that in private?”  It wasn't really Arthur’s fault, Alfred knows. He’d probably grown up memorising the titles of every petty noble and their uncle, getting drilled in proper omega behaviour and having stuff like How to Address a King, Even if He’s Your Husband drummed into that pretty head of his. But Alfred hadn't and he’s not about to bother when it’s just the two of them. It had been one of their compromises; Alfred stayed on his best behaviour in public and Arthur made the effort to be casual and less uptight in the privacy of their rooms. </p><p>His queen sucks in a sharp breath, jerking slightly as Alfred runs his tongue down the inside of a pale, trembling thigh. “Ah<em> -Alfred! </em>”</p><p>That was better. Alfred picks a spot and latches onto it, sucking hard enough to bruise and easily holding Arthur’s thighs parted when he squirms and tries to close them. He can smell the heat slick from here, sweet and enticing, no doubt soaking into the sheets beneath them. Arthur had to be desperate by now, at being toyed with and teased like this when all his body must’ve wanted was a nice, thick knot and maybe for Alfred to bite at the mating mark on his neck. Alfred could have been nice and let him have it, but honestly, Arthur’s just so <em>pretty </em>like this, so hot and eager and responsive to every touch that it’d be a pity to end it so soon.</p><p>So he’d pinned Arthur to the bed with slow, languid kisses at the start of all this, distracting him so that Alfred could unravel that cute ribbon from around his neck and wrap it around his wrists instead. Arthur might've protested then, but Alfred had silenced him by pushing a hand into his trousers and unceremoniously grabbing his cock because Arthur was really easy when he was in heat. All his queen had managed to do then was buck his hips into the contact and moan. </p><p>Bet he was regretting that now, flat on his back with his hands tied above his head and knees drawn up to give Alfred more access. </p><p>“Don't <em>tease</em>,” Arthur grinds out, shuddering as Alfred cups a hand between his legs, rolling the heel of his palm into the pretty cock currently leaking onto its owner’s belly. His voice was thick, that delicious accent strong in the way that usually meant Alfred was doing a <em> very </em>good job. In case it wasn't obvious, Alfred really, really liked the accent, liked the way Arthur sometimes called him <em>darling </em>or <em>love </em>in it when they were alone. No one else got pet names from the so-called Ice Queen. That one was a bit of a funny moniker, in Alfred’s opinion. One so far off the mark to have been laughable. Accurate enough for his public persona, maybe. In front of others, Arthur may well have been carved from ice, beautiful and refined and untouchable, but he <em>melted </em>when Alfred touched him. So warm and generous and sweet that Alfred couldn't resist dipping down to <em>taste…  </em></p><p><em> “Alfred!” </em> It’s almost a scream; Arthur’s hips jerking and his thighs clenching. Alfred hums in response, nuzzling into the space between his husband’s thighs and just breathing him in for a moment. </p><p>“You smell so good, sweetheart,” he praises and Arthur trembles all over when his tongue flicks out, lazily cleaning away the slick smeared over soft skin. He spreads his fingers, making Arthur whine at the stretch, before leaning down to slip the very tip of his tongue into the cramped space between his fingers. “Taste good too,” he says cheekily, knowing full well that Arthur would have hit him if he were able too. This far into heat though, his queen just moans helplessly, head falling back as Alfred pleasures him. He’s so wet that Alfred’s fingers make a little squelching noise when he pulls them back and starts to thrust, building up into a good, rough rhythm that has Arthur mewling, every line of that beautiful body taut with strain as he writhes on the bed. </p><p>It’s good, he knows just from Arthur’s pleasure-stained scent, but nowhere near enough for an omega in heat. He could have brought Arthur to orgasm like this a dozen times with his fingers and tongue and it wouldn't have sated his queen for more than a few minutes each time. He would know. It’s been hours and Arthur’s still going, unable to rest for more than those brief stolen snatches of time without a knot inside him. He had to be exhausted. It had to be driving him mad. </p><p>He watches greedily as Arthur climaxes with a mangled moan, adding to the mess already splattered over his stomach, body clamping down greedily on Alfred’s fingers as if to keep him there. He goes limp immediately, head lolling and chest heaving, and Alfred kisses his thigh again before sitting up.</p><p>“Thirsty, sweetheart? I’ll get you some water,” he says, perfectly solicitous. Arthur snarls weakly at him for it but drinks readily enough when Alfred puts the bottle to his lips, which meant that he <em>had </em>been thirsty but just too proud to admit it. Alfred drains what little is left after he’s done, leaving the bottle on the floor by the bed for the servants to clear later. </p><p>“Sire- I mean, Alfred,” Arthur says, catching himself before Alfred can so much as raise an eyebrow at him. He's not quite looking at Alfred, cheeks flushed cutely as he fumbles over the words. It didn't matter; Alfred knew what he wanted anyway. He leans in, wedging his hips between Arthur’s thighs so he can catch that stubborn chin between the fingers of his clean(er) hand and make Arthur meet his gaze. </p><p>“You want me to fuck you, honey?” Alfred croons, voice as filthy as he can make it, just so he can watch Arthur’s beautiful eyes dilate. This was edging into cruelty, he knows, but Arthur moans so sweetly for him as he grinds their hips together that Alfred can't resist. He mouths at Arthur’s neck, lips drawn to the faded scar at the side of that pale throat that’s physical proof of his claim. It’s sensitive, he knows. Incredibly, agonisingly sensitive and Alfred grins as the attention makes Arthur squirm underneath him, breath hitching at the scrape of Alfred’s teeth over the mating mark. </p><p>He sucks lightly at it, setting his hands on either side of Arthur’s waist and noticing as his queen begin to harden against him again. Oh wow, that had been fast. He had to be <em>really </em>desperate. Alfred slips a hand under him, palming the firm curve of Arthur’s ass and squeezing at it possessively just because it’s <em>his </em>and he can. That it makes Arthur make this tiny, choked sound is a bonus. </p><p>He goes quiet again when Alfred starts to speak; as well-mannered as ever even half out of his mind with heat. <em> He really was so cute. </em>Alfred nuzzles his neck, lips pressed to the shell of a flushed ear. “Hey darlin'... do you remember what you said when you came to me earlier?” </p><p>Alfred waits patiently but Arthur just shakes his head mutely, breaths quickening as Alfred’s fingers creep closer to his entrance. “Really? It was just this morning, y’know.” He flicks his tongue out with a hum, teasing. “I asked what you wanted and you said…? C’mon, you gotta remember this part. What did you say, Artie?”</p><p>Alfred remembers it perfectly well, of course; Arthur pressed up to him in his office where he'd found him, those slim hands curled tightly into his coat, cheeks heavily flushed and body trembling almost imperceptibly with the onset of his heat. Of that little half-dazed murmur of “<em>Anything you want. Anything you would give me, my liege.” </em></p><p>He tells Arthur so, now, and is faintly amused by the way his husband’s face twitches like he’s trying to remember how to glare. It’s not going too well even before Alfred ‘helps’ by pushing three fingers teasingly against that needy hole and making Arthur jolt and moan. “Y-you know I didn't mean it like -<em> nhh </em>- l-like…” </p><p>“Like this?” Alfred pushes a little harder, slips the very tips of his fingers inside that wet, inviting heat and the sound Arthur makes is <em>obscene. </em> Alfred wants to hear more of it. He starts finger-fucking Arthur in earnest again, playing with that tight little ass even as he goes on nibbling at Arthur’s throat. The combined stimulation makes Arthur writhe, arching up hotly into his mouth, his hands. </p><p>And because Alfred knows exactly how to push his queen’s buttons, he lets his other hand venture lower to join in the fun, rubbing against the tender skin around Arthur’s entrance to collect some of the heat slick that’s leaking right out of him. It’s tempting <em> (so, so tempting) </em> to slip those fingers inside as well, to really stretch Arthur out and make him gasp and whine. <em> It’d be a tight fit but Arthur could take it, he’s taken more before- </em> But Alfred has other plans and he’s already thinking about how goddamned loud Arthur was going be for him even as he reaches up and drags his wet fingers over Arthur’s ribs and higher, smearing his own slick over his skin. </p><p>A sharp intake of breath tells him that his queen has noticed. But by then it's too late and then his fingers are brushing against a stiff nipple and Arthur’s back is arching, a soft, mindless moan slipping past his swollen lips as Alfred pinches that little nub with slick fingers, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He keeps it up, teasing at Arthur’s nipples and his ass and his neck, and his queen is finishing again in what seems like no time at all, tensing and crying out as he comes, clinging to Alfred as much as he’s able to. </p><p>As before, he goes slack, body wonderfully loose and warm and pliant against Alfred’s own even as he’s wracked with intermittent tremors from his release. Alfred kisses his temple this time, nuzzling at him affectionately before gently letting his fingers slip out, humming soothingly when Arthur cries out softly at the loss. </p><p>“Arthur, sweetheart, look at me?”</p><p>Alfred waits until he does, peering up with dazed green eyes that can't quite seem to focus. <em> So sweet, so vulnerable, god, he smells so fucking good- </em> “Gonna fuck you now,” Alfred tells him hoarsely and Arthur’s lashes flutter as he lines himself up and waits for the shaky nod that grants him permission to sink in, in, <em> in- </em> Arthur makes a low, raw sound, eyes falling shut as Alfred finally starts fucking him properly, slow and rough and deep, angling his hips to make sure his cock rubs up against every single sweet spot his queen has. </p><p>He doesn't quite drag it out; it didn't seem fair after all that he’s already put Arthur through, but Alfred wants to make it good for him, damnit. So fucking good that he makes Arthur forget his own name<em>, </em> let go of all their titles and responsibilities and just moan for Alfred like there’s nothing else in the world but them.</p><p><em> “Alfred,” </em> Arthur gets out unsteadily, that pale, pretty throat bobbing as he swallows and Alfred thinks <em>yes, yes, like that, just like that </em>and deepens his next thrust, fucks into Arthur so hard that the bed creaks and he knocks Arthur a few inches up the mattress even with his fingers digging into those slim hips to hold him still.  It makes Arthur gasp and moan and clench down tightly around Alfred’s cock, which just makes Alfred’s hips snap forward instinctively and then things get a… little out of hand around that point. </p><p>It’s all a blur of pleasure and heat and <em> Arthur, Arthur, always Arthur. </em> Arthur writhing against him and all but screaming in pleasure at finally being fucked and filled. Alfred vaguely remembers pinning him down at some point and tasting blood, blooming bright and coppery on his tongue as his teeth sink into the familiar spot between Arthur’s shoulder and neck, feeling the frantic flutter of Arthur’s pulse against his lips and the way Arthur seizes and goes <em>tight </em>around him as that gorgeous body locks up and he comes<em>. </em> Hard, spilling in between them as they rut against each other like wild animals. Alfred’s not far behind and the <em>sound </em> Arthur makes when he orgasms too and his knot starts to swell damned near <em>ends </em>him. </p><p>It’s about then Alfred realizes distantly that his throat is raw and he’s been talking the whole time; heat speech, mostly, the sexed-up ramblings that Arthur never seemed able to decide whether he liked or was mortified by - <em> my pretty little mate, mine, mine, mine -gonna knot you so hard your ancestors can feel it, fill you up with my cum and breed you, get you fat and round with pups -I’d spoil you, you know I would, you're </em>mine-</p><p>He sneaks a peek at Arthur, just to check, and finds such a drowsily content expression on his queen’s face that his heart does a funny little skip. Arthur’s all but purring, clinging -huh, he must’ve gotten untied at some point because his hands were free- to Alfred like a koala. An unbelievably adorable koala with an unbelievably adorable open-mouthed look of bliss on his adorable face. Alfred wants to cuddle the heck outta him, decides that well, they’re already knotted so why not, and does. If anything, Arthur purrs even louder and actually smuggles into him. <em> So fucking cute. </em>Gods, Alfred should have done this ages ago, pinned him down and filled him up and knotted him the second Alfred'd been confronted with a red-faced Arthur in the beginning stages of his heat.</p><p>He pets Arthur’s fluffy hair, carding through the now hopelessly tousled strands and inadvertently making his queen stir. </p><p>“Mm… Al?” </p><p>“Shh, don't mind me,” Alfred whispers back; Arthur sounded half-asleep already, his voice soft and almost slurred. He melts further when Alfred starts kneading at his back, rubbing slow, soothing circles over his shoulders and spine. This felt right; Arthur in his arms, curled up to him and securely knotted. His lover, his queen, his confidant. Sated and content and quite thoroughly claimed. <em> Mine, mine, mine, all mine- </em></p><p>“Yours,” Arthur murmurs drowsily into his chest and Alfred blinks as he realises that he’d been speaking aloud. Arthur only presses closer, tangling their legs together and waving off Alfred’s instinctive apology for disturbing his rest. </p><p>He’s quiet again for a long time, so long that Alfred thinks that he’s dozed off and is mostly asleep himself when he hears the low reply, muffled against his chest.</p><p>“Just as long as you know <em> you're </em>mine too, Alfred F. Jones.”</p><p>There’s affection in Arthur’s tone- affection and possession both. A claim. It might as well have been a declaration of love. Alfred presses a last kiss into his queen’s hair and whispers back one of his own. </p><p>“Wouldn't have any other way, Arthur.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok I know I've done similar stuff, but you'll have to pry this particular kind of smut out of my cold, dead hands. it's my go-to for now because it's the only thing my useless brain will produce while on *this* much sleep I don't make the rules</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>